Title: Downtime

Author: pronker

Era: The Clone Wars

Characters: Asajj Ventress and her fantasies

Rating: M

Summary: How does an assassin relax?

A/N: Written from a prompt on the ever-gracious albumsonthesides' kinkmeme on LiveJournal; on fanfictionDOTnet the handle is mathematica.


For a change, there was enough time in the cabin's lower bunk to arrange her favorite scenario. Asajj gathered the ergonomic pillow from the upper bunk and placed it behind her knees. She sprawled, testing for the slightest discomfiting distraction. Almost perfect. She Called two more pillows from the ridiculous overstuffed chair her stolen ship sported, sneering at the pillows' decadent fringe. One pillow slid under each knife-like elbow, supporting the muscles of her lightsaber-wielding arms. Getting there. Lolling her head to the side and flicking a finger at the holotransmitter sitting a meter away, she smiled. There he was, glacial in mid-speech. She twitched a pinkie and then he began speaking, his voice rolling over her like warmth, like friendship, or what she imagined friendship to be. Her shaven lips quivered, riffling apart. Her fingers trembled. So close.

Something new, something new to spice things up ... from the blaster-scarred cabin table floated the holotransmitter, trailing encouraging words. It hooked itself in the springs of the upper bunk with the utilitarian bight that she supposed the vessel's mechanics used, stringing it up out of the way, tuning the device to the latest entertainment feed as they repaired circuit boards with clever claws. She plastered it at just the right angle with the Force and turned up the volume. "Gentlebeings," was one word he said, and then "with the help of the Jedi", "work for peace", "victory at Malastare" and "triumph together." She didn't care about the rest of the words. They were as unimportant as the name of the taloned species whose ship this had been. All that mattered was her goal.

"Together," whispered Asajj, dialing up the resolution with a nod and clipping off his body, leaving a life-size head floating above her own, blue sparkles dancing on her paleness. If she looked down her cheeks, she'd see little bits of his transmission glittering there. But she didn't, she stared into his eyes and heard his voice and slid eager fingers over herself, teasing a nipple, flicking it into life, rolling a trim breast and then again. She panted.

Enough of this, onto the main event. Asajj registered no words of his speech now, only the gravelly tones that were as savory as the Force to her ears. She slipped one finger, only one, to her center, pushed inside the wetness there and then out again. And again. Her clit wanted attention; she denied it. Over the war years, times such as these were precious and she would string things out as long as she could. Eh, he was frowning, tense lines between his brows, eyes narrowed. It turned her on even more than the scent of herself which drenched the room. She arched and then sank back. Not yet.

It wasn't until her time-sense warned her that his declamation was drawing to its close that she turned on the TurboDyne 99-U podpower. Crying out as she tossed her head, plunging roughly inside herself and then at last, at last thumbing the hood of her clit and finally scratching it, she angled her smallest finger to circle her other entrance. With a shriek, Asajj came and strained backwards, then upwards to kiss ice-clear lips frozen in silence before she collapsed again.

"Together," she sighed, settling into slumber. And here Dooku thought he was the only one she did this to. Kenobi perceived his own role in her fantasies, she was certain. She drifted away after telling herself to dream of the only Master who had been true to her.


The End.